


sharing

by witching



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Planet, Banter, Drinking, F/M, Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 14:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17510249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witching/pseuds/witching
Summary: eating and drinking on alien planets requires a whole lot of trust.





	sharing

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to feel joy for once in my life. this is the joy. a tiny cute thing from the prompt "sharing a drink."

“Here.” The Doctor slid a glass across the table as he sat down, returning from the bar. It was full of a thick, orange slush, with a long straw and beads of condensation rolling down the sides. 

Rose examined it, dissecting it with her eyes. “You first.”

“What, you think I’m trying to poison you?”

“No, of course not.”

He gave a conspiratorial smile. “Good, ‘cause if I wanted to poison you…”

“Not funny,” she said, but she laughed anyway. She shook her head, still smiling, and added, “I just want you to try it first.”

The Doctor furrowed his brow and frowned, first at Rose, then at the drink. “But it’s yours,” he insisted. “I got it for you.”

“I know, but… alien planet. Strange drinks. Could be anything.” Rose was not afraid of the unknown. She loved it, in fact. But when it came to ingesting substances, some caution was called for, she thought.

“Ah.” He nodded, understanding. Without another word, he reached for the glass and took a long sip from the straw, dramatically opening his mouth to prove that he had swallowed it. “See? All good.” He passed the drink back to her, not persisting, but giving.

“Thank you.” She picked up the glass as if she were afraid it might explode, and took a tentative drink. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, that’s good.”

“I told you,” the Doctor teased. Despite his levity, he was still watching her with intent, protective eyes. “I picked the one I thought you’d like best.”

Rose smiled, all teeth, and took another sip. “What is it?”

“That,” the Doctor replied, happy to put on the show of his intergalactic knowledge, “is the skin excretion of the durken slug. Native to this planet.”

Rose set the glass down on the table, a bit too hard, and wrinkled her nose. The Doctor looked into her eyes as he took the drink again, downing a third of it in one breath, and chuckled at the shock and disgust on her face. Rose narrowed her eyes, looked from him to the drink and back to him. Of course it was safe, or he wouldn’t have let her drink it the first time. And it tasted so good. Shrugging, she grabbed the glass from his hands and drank the rest of it.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. He stared at her for a long time before shaking his head and smiling. “Rose Tyler, you never cease to amaze.”

“What can I say? I love adventure,” she said with a laugh. Then, wrinkling her brow, “And I have a brainfreeze. Ow.”

“Here, let me just…” The Doctor took her left hand, his long, slender fingers wrapping around her wrist, and with his other hand, pressed a point near the center of her palm with reasonable force. “That better?”

Rose blinked in surprise. “Yeah. How’d you do that?”

“Nice little trick, isn’t it? Picked it up a few years back, near the Blue Galaxy. They call it that because it’s blue,” he said. His tone was matter-of-fact, but the spark in his eye gave away his amusement. He paused for a moment, still holding Rose’s hand, unnecessarily now. “I was messing with you, by the way.”

She was distracted, miles past where they were sitting now, focused on the warmth of his skin on hers, his gentle grip on her wrist. “What?”

He flashed a grin. “With the drink. I was messing with you. It’s a mango margarita.”

Rose cycled through a dozen facial expressions while his statement sunk in, finally settling somewhere between annoyed and fond. She smacked him on the arm with her free hand. “You  _ stupid _ …” she muttered, then, “that’s not nice.”

“I am sorry,” he said, so solemn that she could tell he was still teasing her a little bit. “How can I ever make it up to you?”

He was flirting. Rose knew he was flirting, even if only because he was  _ always  _ flirting, in a way. She was usually a fan of the flirting, and even now she was enjoying it, but she decided not to give him the satisfaction of responding to it. “You can start by bringing me another drink,” she said airily.

The Doctor smiled brightly as he stood from his seat, offered a salute. “Yes, sir,” he said, and turned toward the bar. Rose watched him go, all vibrant energy even when he was just walking, and made a mental note that when he returned, she was  _ definitely  _ flirting back.


End file.
